


Leave the Ghosts Behind

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Bonding, Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Greg, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg was just going into heat when Mycroft offered him a lift home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Ghosts Behind

Greg cursed as he finished wrapping up the crime scene. He’d been feeling his heat coming on, but had done his best to ignore it. At least his people were professional enough not to mention it. But now things were finished and everyone was leaving and he could at last get into his car and try to get back to his flat.

It was pouring down rain when he got a flat tyre halfway home. Of course his jacket had been left back at the office and he was only wearing his suit coat. Grumbling, he got out and kicked the offending tyre, going to the trunk to change it...only to realize the spare was missing.

Greg kicked the next nearest tyre.

He fumbled for his phone, not even sure who to call, when the dark car pulled up behind him. This did nothing alleviate the cursing or the foul mood. He slammed the trunk shut and turned around, stomping to the window. “What do you want, Mycroft?”

Mycroft looked imperious as ever as the window came down. Even through the pouring rain Greg could smell the alpha. He was well aware of Mycroft Holmes. It was impossible not to be when one was in the orbit of Sherlock. The older watched over the younger like some great brooding eagle looming over its nest. Thank God Sherlock was a beta or else Mycroft might not have let him leave the house. Not that it would have stopped him.

“Gregory, please, get in.” Mycroft’s voice stopped his wandering thoughts.

“That’s really not a good idea,” said Greg, taking half a step back.

“If you are concerned about your heat, don’t be. I can control my baser instincts. And your heat has barely begun.”

Greg eyed Mycroft, then glanced at his car before turning his head to look up at the dark skies, blinking as the rain hit his face. Sighing, he shivered from the chill and his own body’s instincts. “Fine. But take me straight home.”

“Of course.” 

Greg pulled the door open and got in. This car was set up like a limo, with bench seats facing one another.Greg took a bit of pleasure in knowing he was soaking the warm, dry seat. Mycroft had both hands on his umbrella, watching him. There was something predatory in his eyes, despite the reassurances. Greg’s scent lingered between them like a question; not all of the damp was from the rain. “How did you know I had a flat?”

“I’ve been watching you a long time.” Mycroft kept his voice light, but there was the smallest bit of menace behind it.

Greg watched him, wary, like prey before a tempting predator. “You know my wife left me last year.”

“I do.” Mycroft leaned forward and met his eyes. “She’s a fool.”

Greg looked away from his gaze. “I can’t have kids.”

“That doesn’t make you any less worthy to be cared for,” Mycroft said gently.

Greg looked back at him, flush staining his cheeks despite himself. Mycroft’s face was as implacable as ever, but the predator had faded from his eyes, leaving something much softer. Feeling his heart twist, Greg reached over to crack open the window, letting the cool rain spatter his skin again and clearing some of the pheromones. He looked out at the night as he found words again. “I suppose you’d like to be that alpha?”

“I would like to be that man,” said Mycroft. “Being an alpha is secondary. I have no desire to curb your independence.”

Greg glanced at him, then back out the window, breathing in the fresh air, watching a stoplight, and considered his options. If he asked Mycroft to stop and let him out, he was certain that he would. Same with taking him home; they were only a few blocks away. He could go up to his small flat, crawl into bed, and spend another miserable heat alone. Or he could tell Mycroft Holmes to take him to his place, spend his heat with an alpha that cared more than he let anyone see, and maybe even form a new bond.

His hand drifted up to the faded scar of his old bond without conscious thought. Mycroft shifted and Greg studied his reflection in the glass. Greg had wondered about him for a while, this proud, aloof alpha that occasionally appeared to clean up Sherlock’s messes and more often could be felt like an invisible hand in his brother’s life. If he shared a heat with him then that hand would be on him as well, even more so if they bonded.

Greg also knew just how deeply Mycroft could and did care. He’d caught glimpses of the man behind the mask. The first time Greg had called him was when he’d found Sherlock snooping around a crime scene, high as a kite; after Greg had told him he could only help if he was sober. The idiot had tried to argue, then push past Greg, only to slip and knock himself for a loop. Greg had muttered that _that_ was the reason he needed to be sober, then went through Sherlock’s pockets until he’d found his mobile. He’d found the only number in his favorites and in a few minutes a black car pulled up..

This car started to move and Greg turned his attention back to the patiently waiting alpha. “Do you want to bond?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, studying Greg’s intentions before answering. “I would not be opposed,” he said carefully.

Greg licked his lips. “Nor would I. Take me to yours?”

Nodding, Mycroft pressed a button to speak with his driver. Now that the decision had been made, Greg rolled the window back up, starting to shiver.

Watching Greg, Mycroft carefully got up and moved next to him. Greg bit his lip, getting a whiff of the alpha's pheromones underneath the old ink smell of Mycroft himself. It felt right, comfortable. Mycroft reached over and helped him out of his soaked suit coat. Then he took off his own and wrapped it around Greg's shoulders. The alpha’s scent was stronger here and flavored with Mycroft's aftershave in the collar. Greg leaned against him, relaxing. "Thank you," he said.

Mycroft brushed wet hair from Greg's eyes. "May I kiss you?"

It seemed an odd question when they'd just agreed to bond, but Greg understood. He smiled up at him. "Please."

Mycroft leaned in and kissed him gently, not quite chaste, but not domineering either. Nothing like his ex-wife had been. She was always the kind of alpha to take and claim. She'd decided early on she wanted Greg Lestrade to be her omega. Later on she'd decided on someone else and no doubt set about getting her with the same vigor and attention.

But this wasn't the time to think of her. Greg pushed the memories aside and focused on the man in front of him. Mycroft's hand came up to cup the back of his head. Greg groaned as a wave of heat washed over him. The alpha's grip tightened and low growl escaping Mycroft's lips that went straight to Greg's cock. Instinctively he spread his legs, wanting to offer himself.

Mycroft broke the kiss and pulled back. "Gregory," he panted, voice gone as dark as his eyes. 

Greg smiled at Mycroft, reaching a hand to to rest on his thigh. Mycroft covered his hand with his own, but did not lean in to drink any more kisses. He seemed content to watch Greg, thumb stroking the back of his hand. The barest tremble betrayed the amount of control he was employing. Greg felt the same way, wanting to climb into his lap or fall on his knees and present.

Finally the car came to a stop. Mycroft got out umbrella first, opening it against the still pouring rain. He turned and reached for Greg's hand. "Bit late for that," smiled Greg, taking his hand and holding the suit jacket tight around his shoulders. Mycroft wrapped his free hand around Greg's waist and held him close, guiding him into the house. Once in the entryway, he shook out the umbrella and left it to dry.

Greg looked around the foyer. From what he could see, the place was nicely appointed, but not ostentatious. It was an old house and there was certainly a lived-in air. Mycroft took his jacket from Greg's shoulders and leaned in to scent him. Greg instinctively angled his head to give him access. Mycroft growled as his hands came to rest on Greg’s waist. Possessive, but not in a way that made him feel trapped. Greg gave a moan in response. He wanted to be naked and stuffed full of Mycroft's cock sooner rather than later.

Reading his thoughts, Mycroft brought them quickly through the house and up the stairs, stumbling down the hall and into the master bedroom. Greg barely had time to catch his breath before Mycroft was stripping him out of his wet clothes, leaving him shivering and naked.

Mycroft licked his lips, clearly admiring the view. Greg blushed and bit his lip, shuddering as another wave of heat went through him. Eyes on Mycroft, he climbed into the enormous bed before rolling onto his stomach so he could inhale the strong alpha scent. His legs spread wide and he rolled his hips against the blankets, getting so lost in the sensation that he was unaware of Mycroft until the alpha licked slick off the inside of his thigh.

Mycroft moved up and Greg revelled in the sensation of skin on skin, Mycroft’s thick erection rutting against the crack of his arse. The omega tilted his hips to better present and Mycroft accepted the invitation, pressing into the willing omega.

Greg cried out. The lack of preparation burned, but his body produced more slick in response. He writhed on the thick cock until Mcroft folded over him, threading their fingers together, covering him with his body, thrust in until only his knot remained outside.

The omega was no longer shaking with cold, but with need.

Mycroft growled in his ear. Now he was taking, claiming, making Greg his own. He dipped his head to drag his teeth along Greg's faded bonding mark. Greg flushed, aware of the scar, how it marked him as used and discarded. Panic bubbled just under surface: That Mycroft didn't really want him, that it was only the heat, that Mycroft's wouldn't bond him.

"Mine," whispered Mycroft, voice gone rough. He shoved his knot past the rim. Greg keened as Mycroft buried his teeth in his skin. Greg nearly sobbed with relief at the flood of chemicals. It had been a year since his wife had left him, longer still since she'd renewed her bite. He wasn't even aware he'd come until Mycroft disengaged his teeth and licked the mark. He rolled them onto their sides, a second, smaller orgasm triggered by the movement. Mycroft moaned softly and shifted them until he could pull a thick blanket over them.

"How long do your heats last?" Mycroft asked after a few minutes, stroking his chest.

"Lately only about two days. Getting older and all that. Never had strong heats anyway." He sighed and leaned against the alpha

"It makes you no less desirable." Mycroft buried his nose against him.

Greg lapsed into silence, taking comfort in the touch and smells around him. Just as he was falling asleep, he felt Mycroft wetly slip free. The alpha kissed his cheek and got up. Greg burrowed deeper into the blankets as his footsteps left the room. Once he was gone, he reached up to touch the fresh mark. The skin was tender under his fingers. The faded scar could still be felt, but clearly it hadn’t bothered Mycroft or stopped him from marking over it. Greg tucked his hand under his chin, the scents all around him telling him he was safe.

Some time later, Greg woke, finding Mycroft perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a blue robe that set off his eyes, and holding a tray of fresh fruit and cheese. Greg sat up and Mycroft smiled softly as he fed him by hand, watching him. It felt good to be cared for and he smiled back as he met Mycroft’s gaze.

When Greg finished Mycroft took the tray and went out again. Greg’s mind drifted back to his ex. She’d barely paid attention to him the last few years. He’d thrown himself into work more than usual and tried to pretend that the distance didn’t mean anything, though he’d known the truth long before Sherlock had pointed it out.

“Do you need anything?” asked Mycroft as he stepped back into the room, shaking Greg from his thoughts.

“Just the loo, thanks,” Greg smiled at him.

“En suite is just there,” said Mycroft, offering him a hand up. Greg waved off the assistance and made his way over, closing the door behind him. Taking a breath, he stood in front of the mirror and examined the mark in the light. Mycroft’s bite was bigger than his ex’s, and it seemed he’d purposely crossed the old scar with his new mark. There was still so much to discuss, but he didn’t regret getting into Mycroft’s car. Greg took care of his business and came back out to find Mycroft gone again and a soft robe waiting for him. He pulled it on and padded downstairs, finding Mycroft at a desk in the well appointed study at the back of the house.

Mycroft started to close the laptop when he came in, but Greg shook his head and went to one of the overflowing shelves. He picked out a book and took it to one of the overstuffed chairs facing the fire and curled up with it. He could feel Mycroft watching him for a few moments, then there was the comforting click of the keyboard as he went back to work. Everything here smelled of his alpha; clearly this was a room that Mycroft used often. Greg found that the scent banked the already low fires of his heat. He’d always had a healthy sexual appetite, but his heats had never been that intense. It was part of what enabled him to be a good cop and move up through the ranks: he’d never missed much time because of biology.

Of course, low heats were also a symptom of Greg’s infertility.

Suddenly, he became aware that the typing had stopped. Mycroft was on his feet, standing a little apart as if uncertain. He watched Greg in the flickering light. Greg smiled at him and Mycroft closed the gap, taking his omega’s hand.

At the touch, Greg felt the flush of heat starting up again. He got to his feet and Mycroft tugged him into a soft kiss. Greg moaned softly, Mycroft’s thumb rubbing across the mark. He pulled away and looked into Greg’s eyes. “I am glad you asked me,” he said quietly.

Greg looked away, towards the fire. “Even though I’m already marked?” 

Mycroft tilted his chin to make him look at him. “You are not used. The idea that a discarded omega is unworthy and tainted is archaic and barbaric. You are mine, Gregory, no matter what scars you bear.” He pulled him into another kiss.

Greg moaned into it. Mycroft loosened the belt of his robe and slipped a cool hand around waist to his back, guiding him down in front of the fire. “You are delicious wrapped in my scent,” purred Mycroft, spreading Greg’s thighs.

The omega’s heart thumped in his chest as he watched Mycroft, his heat roaring to life so quickly that he groaned with it. Mycroft’s eyes dilated. He dove down, dragging his tongue across Greg’s entrance, lapping at the slick like a cat with a bowl of cream.

Greg moaned again, gasping and writhing. Mycroft wrapped his arms around his thighs to keep him in place. His tongue worked the edge of Greg’s rim before pressing inside, seemingly trying to taste every corner of his most intimate places. No one had ever done that to him before. Greg was lost in a haze of bliss.

Suddenly Greg gave a strangled cry and came, hands fisting and head thrown back. Raising his head, Mycroft licked his lips and wiped his mouth. Like a stalking tiger, he moved up Greg’s body, dipping his head back down to lick the sweat from the hollow of his throat. Greg gave a broken moan, eyes still squeezed shut.

Slowly Mycroft's mouth moved back down, licking and tasting. Greg opened his eyes and looked to see Mycroft savoring the flavor of Greg’s come on his tongue. The auburn hair had fallen loose, Mycroft’s face flush from exertion. Reaching down, Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, shifting his hips. Mycroft kissed the head of his cock and knelt back. His cock was heavy and leaking. He squeezed around the knot, gulping deep breaths as if trying to keep control.

Leaving the robe behind, Greg sat up carefully. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but Greg shook his head, taking his arm and reversing their positions. Mycroft’s cock jutting up proudly.

Greg bestowed a kiss to the head of the alpha’s thick cock before straddling his hips. He braced himself on Mycroft’s chest and Mycroft raised his hands to rest on his hips, but didn’t pull him down. Carefully, Greg lowered himself down, eyes closing as he was filled. Reaching the knot, he lifted and then dropped, forcing it past his rim and crying out in pleasure. Mycroft’s fingers bruised his hips and he nearly howled.

Holding Greg’s waist, Mycroft flipped them over, grinding down against his omega, coming, driving Greg through another orgasm. Greg gasped for air, scratching at Mycroft’s arms and shoulders. Mycroft kissed him roughly, one hand tangling in his hair as he shared his breath.

Greg whimpered, wrapping his legs around Mycroft, clinging to him. Mycroft tongued his mouth, still slowly grinding his hips and moaning as a second, gentler orgasm washed through him. Finally, he broke the kiss to rest his head against Greg’s. “Okay?”

Greg nodded. Mycroft kissed him again, gently, and rolled them over again so Greg could rest on his chest. Mycroft traced soft patterns in his back with one hand, smoothing his hair with the other.

This time when Mycroft’s knot slipped free, he stayed where he was. Greg was nearly dozing, but he stirred at his lover’s words. “Will you move in with me?”

Raising his head, Greg gave a sleepy smile. “‘Course I will.”

Mycroft leaned up and gave him a soft kiss before settling back on the rug. Greg gave a contented sigh. For the first time in a very long time, he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to beautifulllyheeled, type_40_consulting_detective, hums-happily and songlin.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
